


Shattered Stones

by WhereDragonsSleep



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Adult Sothis (Fire Emblem), Blood and Injury, Child Death, Crests (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Crests are somewhat like Eldunari, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Sothis needs a hug, Visions, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24978112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhereDragonsSleep/pseuds/WhereDragonsSleep
Summary: They are unable to move on without some assistance. Assistance which she must provide, even if it will eventually break her mind.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Sothis
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	Shattered Stones

Thick green ichor dribbled between her fingers, running down her hands and arms and dripping onto her blue and gold robes. A high pitched wailing pierced the air as the rivulets flowed further.

Trapped within the flow she could see fine clumps of dust and rock clinging to each other, draining away from her hands. Her bloodstained, destructive hands. She had done this, she had killed them. Her body had destroyed them.

Taking her hands apart, she looked at the crumbled remains of what once held love and wonder, a vessel of life which had infinite potential. The wailing had stopped now, leaving behind a broken husk.

Just like those before it, she placed it back into its assigned tomb and glanced over those that she had already done. Five puddles of lifeblood stained the floor in her wake. Green stains marred her formerly immaculate robes, large patches poisoned by her reaping.

She slid the tomb’s covering back over it, then moved on to the next one. Another stone lay at the bottom as she opened it, and with a shaking hand she took it out, firmly grasping the hardened edges. A soft breath escaped her lips, and she focused, closing her eyes to reach out for what dwelled within.

She was met with an oddly peaceful silence, and she stood on a pier next to a river. She could see a small boat just a few dozen metres away, travelling downstream. Relief, just soft relief, then pain. Blood stained her shirt as cold steel travelled through her chest and speared out the end.

Collapsing to the ground, she laughed, for she knew her mission was complete, they would escape. Her family, her wife and their son, safely escaped…Then an orange glow entered her vision, just as it faded away.

Her eyes snapped open once more, and she looked down at the stone within her hands, the intricate pattern inlaid in the stone glowing just ever so slightly.

She knew they all were dead, for she had experienced the death of those on the boat before, just a few tombs ago. The sombre peace that this one felt for he believed his loved ones had escaped made her ache with pity. Freeing him to be with them once more would be a mercy.

So she did it. Her hands squeezed, and with a bolt of fire magic, the rock shattered within her hands. The green ichor once again spurted from between her fingers, splattering the ground and her robes with yet more viridian blood. Dust and rocks spilled forth when she drew her hands apart, then placed it back where it once lay.

That one may not have been ended by her, but had it not been the bandits, then it would have been her that caused their life to be cut short. She could waste no more time, however, and moved on.

Her chest heaved as she laid her eyes on the next one. No more than a pebble, a tiny stone that she could easily balance on two fingers. Her hands cradled the small object close to her, bringing her dripping hands to her jawline to feel closer the essence of the being within.

The world fell dark, and she found herself laying in a small cradle. She screamed and cried as heat and smoke invaded her delicate senses, and her mother stood above her, young, barely at adulthood, still recovering from childbirth. She raised her hands up to her mother, mewling out for closeness and support. Her safety, a glowing beacon.

Her mother was scared, pleading and begging with others she could only hear and not see. Like a bolt of lightning, a blade of fire sunk through her mother’s body, and like that she fell limp, crashing against the crib and falling to the ground. She only screamed more, terrified as green ichor sprayed all over her body.

Now a large figure stood above her, obscured by the smoke, but she could see his eyes, those piercing yellow eyes that brought forth a primal fear within her, and she began to squeal and kick.

They narrowed, and raising the blade above his head, the figure brought it down.

She was suddenly back where she had been before, in the Holy Mausoleum. She stared down at the little pebble within her hands, and soon it was peppered by tears. That was eight in total. Eight beings she had shared death with. Five of which died to her directly.

She felt filthy, filthy and used. Her form once used to protect and care for these people was warped into that of a destructive weapon and used to slaughter them.

And she was asleep while it happened.

A child.

An infant.

A creature of pure innocence and dependence.

She had killed such a being. The blade stained with the blood of thousands. That was a part of her now, something she could not undo. Tears furiously streamed down her face as she covered the Crest Stone in her hands and shattered it, allowing the little being inside to be free from its physical prison.

And when she placed the stone inside the tomb once more, she cast her gaze over the other tombs. Thousands more laid in wait. A choked sob escaped from her throat as the fear of death from those she had connected with flowed through her.

Some goddess she had been.

Those sobs continued to break free. All of these tombs…

Soon she was weeping openly, her body trailed over the top of the casket as her despair and hatred of those who had twisted her fell free, and her revulsion in her own weakness became apparent.

Long keens of utter anguish echoed around the Mausoleum as she let out her grief. Before long, a hand gently touched her shoulder and pulled her towards its source. She found herself falling against his body as she relinquished her vice grip on the tomb.

Green ichor stained his clothing too now, as did her tears and all other unsightly fluids that leaked from her face at this time. She whimpered and sobbed into his chest pathetically, only to be gifted with a firm, protective embrace and a calming stroke along her hair. Such actions only prompted her to break down further, bawling and clutching at his clothes.

Such was his burden, to share with her in all that came, but he shouldered it better than she ever could, and dealt it back to her with a fervour that made her feel like she was worshipped by thousands all in one moment. He could not fully grasp the scope of her pain due to their different experiences, but it did not change her opinion of his comforting. He loved her, and that was all that mattered.

But she still had many more to free, and she didn’t have time to waste, so she began to pull away.

She gazed over the tombs, a gloved hand in her own.

All of them were dead, all of them were just echoes of a lingering soul, but most of all, all of them were her children.

When she was done, Sothis could consider her repentance complete.


End file.
